A good day to die
by trekfreak2008
Summary: Takes place in the 'wrath of khan' movie, basically Spock's thoughts as he dies.


_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Star Trek or any of the characters which are involved in this story. _

_This was __thought of when I had no time whatsoever to write it down, so it's sort of been hibernating in my mind until now. Inspired partly by the TOS music video to 'Seasons in the sun' by __venuskaio__ (which is brilliant and can be found on youtube) and partly by the new movie (although I haven't seen it yet, it got me back in the movie mood and I thought of this). _

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Through the searing pain I hear voices, but I cannot understand what they are saying. I am vaguely aware of people running around the room, and McCoy and Mr Scott, who are still standing near the reaction chamber, staring at me in shock. Everything else is merely a dream as I concentrate on the sound of my breathing, which has become ominously harsh and irregular. Intellectually, I know that this level of radiation is lethal and that I cannot get out without risking the lives of everyone else, but that does nothing to dim the small, very human spark of hope. I realise that with each passing second I am slipping closer and closer to death, yet I feel no sense of fear. I feel…

I am not certain what I feel. Peace, pride at saving the Enterprise, or guilt for leaving my friends behind?

It seems that despite all my experience with humans I lack experience with my own emotions, although I have gained more than I ever thought possible. Over the years, what had been a constant battle to prove myself as a Vulcan has changed somehow. My goal has changed. Instead of fiercely fighting my dual heritage, I am finally learning to accept it. How ironic- only in the face of death am I finally able to accept myself for who I am.

Jim's voice penetrates the fog in my mind, and I belatedly realise that he is calling out to me. In that one word I can detect more grief than can be verbalised, and yet an almost overwhelming hope that I might still be alive. His grief gives me strength, and although my limbs shake and my body screams in agony, I force myself into a standing position.

Eyes closed, I go through the mind disciplines needed to control the pain, and manage to reduce it to a mere dull throb. Out of habit, I pull my tunic back in place, finding some small measure of comfort in that gesture. I no longer seem to care or even notice the illogical direction my thoughts are taking.

I open my eyes, but the darkness does not lift. For one brief moment I am reminded of my previous experience with blindness, although it was temporary then.

I take cautious steps forwards, using the small echo to navigate my way to Jim. As if I can see. I slam hard into the wall, and all pretence shatters. The pain comes back in waves and I find myself unable to keep it from showing on my face. I can almost see Jim's face as the reality of my physical condition becomes apparent.

I lower the barriers of my mind and use my natural telepathy to find the edges of my best friend's thoughts, using them as a guide. Eventually, I am standing face to face with him. There is so much that I wish to say to all of them before I die, but I do not have the strength. I want to explain why I had to do this, how much they all mean to me and how I wish there had been another way. But it is not possible.

Forcing words past my radiation scorched throat is difficult, but I manage, surprised at the hoarse, scratchy quality of it. "Ship…" I take a breath, the air like fire in my lungs. "Out of danger?"

There is a brief pause before I hear Jim's voice again. "Yes."

I nod, the motion almost causing me to fall over and beginning a slight roaring in my ears. No more words come from him, but I can feel his concerned gaze as I stand there. I shake my head at this, realising that he would regard this as his fault. Given the choice, he would have stopped me, insisting that he do it himself. That is exactly why I had to do it in secret.

"Do not grieve, Captain." I almost wince at the formality of my tone. At that moment I am extremely aware of the people in the room, and what they are doing. Some are still carrying out repairs, but most are watching as if it some form of entertainment.

Keeping to the façade of control and logic, none of which I feel at this moment, I manage to whisper "it is logical." I want him to know that this was necessary, that the risk was mine to take, yet I know that he will still have trouble accepting it. He sees every death under his command as his fault, although in reality, it rarely is.

Closing my eyes, I try to gather my strength and then turn back to face him. "The needs of the many" my voice begins to crack, but I must try to finish the sentence. "Outweigh…"

"The needs of the few." Jim finishes for me, in an attempt to spare me from any unnecessary effort.

I nod, glad that he understands. "Or the one."

A wave of intense weakness washes over me, and I can almost hear my heart straining to keep the blood pumping around my body. I realise that I have used up my final reserves of strength, but stubbornly try to ignore it.

"I never took… the kobayashi Maru test until now." I gasp, but carry on determinedly. "What do you think of my solution?" My attempt at what would have been humour in any other situation falls flat.

He calls my name again and places his hand on the glass in a plea for me not to waste my strength, to hang on until the radiation level has decreased and they can get me out. I ignore him, knowing that to do so would be futile.

My legs collapse beneath me and I slide down the wall, my breathing becoming what resembles a harsh pant. I gasp as my knees touch the floor, sending dull waves of pain up my legs and through my body.

"I have been, and always shall be… your friend." This is the first time I have admitted this to such a wide audience, although I am sure that most already knew this before now.

Removing my glove, I place my hand against the glass in the traditional Vulcan salute, momentarily forgetting that Jim still has not learnt to do it back. "Live long… and prosper." I order him gently.

I cannot see, but I know without doubt that his hand has reached up to touch mine through the glass, and that if we had not been separated, he would be holding onto it in the hope that it bring me some comfort as I died.

My head droops down, finally too heavy to hold up, and I do not fight it. I see bright colours dancing in front of me, and with a small sigh of contentment I move into a more comfortable position. The pain has gone now and the colours are brighter, more alluring.

No longer able to breathe, I lean my head back against the glass and surrender to the peaceful void that beckons.

I feel a floating sensation, a voice whispers in my ear; "Remember" and I know that the mind meld was successful.


End file.
